


Yours

by Reality 2_0 (reality_2_0)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reality_2_0/pseuds/Reality%202_0
Summary: sequel to "Mine"





	Yours

Curled up on the couch, her head resting on his lap, she enjoyed the quiet and peacefulness of the moment.

The week had once again been a hectic, busy one – when were they not these days? – and she was very happy to be back home, back with her husband.

He had greeted her at the door, had taken the bag from her before taking a close look at her as he had shut the door behind her. While they were looking at each other, her mask had slipped, her walls crumbled like a house of cards in the wind. The moment that had happened, she had felt fatigue taking over her entire body. It had not only shown on her face, but her posture had screamed exhaustion, too.

He had smiled tenderly at her, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her languidly. “Welcome home,” he had said as he had then embraced her, holding her silently for a few minutes, simply relishing her presence in his arms as she relished being there.

There was no denying she liked her job, liked the opportunities it provided her, the chance to influence the world, to improve it, to make it a better place especially for women and girls.

However, a price had to be paid for that chance. Hence it had been the first time in over a week that she had allowed herself to truly be herself without any façade, a put-on smile or her head held high. Although there had been moments when she had been able to relax a little bit, she could never let go completely. Not in small meetings with her trusted advisors, not during the off-the-record evening with her travelling press, not during seemingly carefree moments with foreign dignitaries.

She enjoyed all these times, particularly the latter brought her a certain joy. The attention she received from fellow foreign ministers, from heads of state and other politicians and diplomats was flattering, stroked her ego.

Throughout her life, she had always harbored feelings of self-doubt, had felt insecure about herself, as if she wasn’t good enough. Not the perfect daughter for her father, not the perfect political wife to the public, not the perfect woman for her husband.

Her father had communicated his dissatisfaction with words and actions, had criticized even the smallest flaw or mistake, had imprinted in her the belief that she could never do, never be good enough. Her mother’s encouragement and being away from home had helped diffuse that belief in her later youth, but some things you learned as a child were difficult, maybe even impossible to unlearn completely.

The public reception of her marriage brought back some of the insecurities she had thought she had overcome by then.

During her years at Wellesley, she had, after some searching, found herself, had started to settle in herself. Like many girls who didn’t meet model criteria, she had struggled with her looks, had experimented with clothes and her hair, had continued her complicated relationship with her glasses.

Yale had strengthened her belief in herself, and her relationship with Bill had strengthened her acceptance of her appearance. If one of the most handsome guys on campus felt drawn to her, she must have at least looked alright. His genuine love and desire for her had boosted her ego. It was ironic how, decades later, he had managed to single-handedly destroy it all again.

Before him, though, there was the public, the media who couldn’t stop talking about how she dressed wrong, was too opinionated, not traditional enough, how she was too much of this and not enough of that. It went on and on for decades, nourishing the soil for the big crash of her confidence that his cheating entailed. Through it all, he had always insisted that he loved her, and she hadn’t doubted it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough, and she couldn’t help but wonder, if despite his love, their love, she was enough for him.

It had taken many hours of therapy, a lot of soul-searching and countless tears, but in the end, they had concluded that, yes, she was enough. And ever since, he had done everything he could to prove just that.

Stepping back and giving her the space to be regarded as her own person separated from him had been part of that. She knew that that hadn’t always been easy for him for he liked to be involved, wanted to protect her at all times and could be a bit possessive of her.

The last trait came into play whenever another man flirted with her. These days, that tended to happen quite often as she regularly found herself as one of few or even the only woman in a room full of charismatic, powerful men. She knew better than to encourage them as she had no intention of starting anything with anyone, but she didn’t discourage them either. It brightened her days, facilitated her work, was good for her ego and harmed no one. The additional bonus was her husband’s jealousy. He tried to suppress it, knew better, and never voiced any accusations. At the most, he might tease her about her “admirers”, but always without even the slightest hint of a bitter or threatening tone. His jealousy found expression in the way he treated her when she was home. He neither manhandled nor tried to dominant her, rather was very attentive of her needs, ensured that she could truly relax during her short downtime. She repaid the favor by letting him in, sharing her innermost thoughts and pains, allowing him to take care of her, making sure he knew he was the one she loved and desired, the one who couldn’t be replaced, who she didn’t want to replace. It didn’t matter to her that he wasn’t as energetic, as virile any longer as he had been decades ago, as some of the men who flirted with her were – neither was she. Between his intelligence, their shared experiences and his knowledge of her, he could provide her with comfort and intellectual stimulation like nobody else would ever be able to.

His love was a balm to her soul and an invaluable treasure of her life. However, it paid off to keep him on his toes. It kept their life interesting. If one wanted to be resentful, it was also a way of giving him a taste of his own medicine, but she was way past that. For her, it was about the fun – at work and at home. Although fun was a broad term.

Today, fun had meant having him undress her, sharing a bath, ordering take-out and cuddling on the couch while watching TV. All the while, they had hardly stopped touching since he had first embraced her in the foyer.

At the moment, he was caressing her head, gently rubbed her temple, stroked her cheek, ran his fingers through her hair. It wouldn’t take much longer for her to fall asleep on him. Not that he expected anything else. He would pause the episode, read a bit, and then coax her into relocating to bed.

In the morning, she would reward him, them carnally, but for now, she basked in his ministrations and love without a care for the world. After all, she was home, where she found peace, where wanted to be, with him.

The End.


End file.
